Chapter Eight
Aileen’s incessant pacing could’ve plucked the hairs off the carpet. She didn’t notice the soft fur tickling her bare feet or the calming scent of dried lavender hanging by the window. Her thoughts preoccupied her.
The day had been a strange one. She’d got so used to Callan: solving cases together, bickering and joking with one another.
Her loud sigh echoed in the room. Outside the locked windows, rain pelted against the glass. Earlier this summer, a similar setting of thunder and rain had given her the most heinous shock: a dangling corpse. Aileen sighed again. She didn’t want to think about it.
Her mind hopped back to the happenings of recent days.
After an invigorating self-defence session with Callan, she’d asked him to dinner. He hadn’t responded. Then, according to
